


Merry Christmas, Eliot Waugh

by LittleMissBrightside



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Eliot Centric, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:34:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21805987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissBrightside/pseuds/LittleMissBrightside
Summary: It’s the first Christmas since Quentin died and Eliot’s trying not to be a grinch about it.He’s visited by three spirits over the course of three nights and learns what it means to love and be loved.
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 16
Kudos: 52





	1. Christmas Eve Eve

Eliot contemplates whether the heavy silence in the throne room is worth breaking if it inevitably leads to a conversation he has no desire to partake in. As soon as he opens his mouth to tell off Josh and Fen, who are doing a terrible job at pretending not to be spying on them from the doorway, Margo sighs.

“Yes, your majesty?” He drawls.

Margo rolls her eyes. “So are we doing this the easy way or the hard way?”

Eliot shrugs. “We could just not do it at all.” 

Margo fixes him with a glare. It’s not hard to imagine that she’s thinking of all the ways she could swiftly and efficiently rid herself of him. “The hard way, then.” She folds her hands in her lap. “I didn’t want to have to talk about feelings today, but you leave me no choice.” Her gaze doesn’t waver. “Want to tell me why you don’t want to go?”

“I’d like to know why you do.”

“Because it’s the right thing to do.”

“Oh is that what we do now, what’s right for other people?”

“I wasn’t talking about other people, El.”

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Maybe not, but you could use some friends. And I know it feels like the world revolves around you, but you’ve got friends who need you too.”

“I don’t know if I have it in me to be the life of the party right now.”

“Nobody expects that of you right now, especially not me.”

It isn’t until Eliot steps through the portal into Kady’s apartment that the reality of the situation truly hits him. Maybe it’s being in this place for the first time since...maybe it’s the fact that now there’s an unmistakable time marker stamped on yet another place that is _after_ Quentin Coldwater. 

He bats at the tinsel hanging in his face. “Bah Humbug,” he grumbles.

Margo swats at him and then pushes him all the way through. “Oh, stop it. We talked about this.” She’s followed out of the portal by Josh and Fen. 

Eliot closes the door to the clock. He turns around to face the living room and is met with four unamused faces. Make that one unamused, one indifferent, one awkward, and one unabashedly delighted. 

“So nice of you to join us,” Kady says. Her arms are crossed tightly over her chest.“Three hours late.” 

“Oh, you know how Fillory time can be,” Eliot says, waving a hand casually in the air. 

“Eliot changed his outfit at least twenty times,” Josh says.

“Traitor,” Eliot hisses.

“And we couldn’t open the portal for some odd reason…” Margo says, pointedly not looking in his direction.

Eliot rolls his eyes.“Okay, fine. I didn’t want to come. Big surprise. But we’re here now. And I see you guys found the tree so there’s that.”

“No thanks to you.” She unfolds her arms, but her stance is still challenging.

“How many magicians does it take to procure a tree?”

Kady ignores him, grabbing a string of lights with a huff.

Julia sets down the tinsel she was holding and bounds over to them. She wraps Eliot in a hug. “Oh,” he says. He places an arm around her. “Hi.” She moves on from him and hugs Margo, who shoots Eliot a panicked look. Eliot laughs and moves further into the room.

Penny doesn’t stop hanging tinsel on the tree, but he nods at Eliot in greeting. Eliot nods back. He walks over to the couch, joining Alice where she’s sitting alone, untangling a string of lights, but she looks up when Eliot sits down. 

“Eliot,” she says.

“Hey, Alice.” He gestures to the mess of lights. “Any reason you’re doing that by hand?”

She smiles. “Julia was very adamant that we use no magic. Says that somehow it makes it all even more magical.”

“Ah. And who are we to argue with goddess logic?”

“Kind of hard when she just looks so happy. It’s contagious.”

Eliot looks across the room where Julia is chatting excitedly with Fen. It had taken some time to forgive her for what she did to Quentin, though it’s a sore spot he doesn’t think will ever truly heal fully. Quentin had forgiven her though and even though Quentin and Julia have more history and the fact that Quentin was just so... _good_. Well, Eliot was trying to be more like him in so many ways. “She deserves it.”

Alice pauses her untangling and covers Eliot’s hand with one of her own. “We all do.”

Julia claps her hands together. “Alright, now that we’re all caught up, it’s time to get to work.” 

She’s holding a clipboard in her hands. Eliot and Margo share a look as if to say _are you seeing this?_ “Eliot.”

Eliot straightens up. “Yes?”

“Can you handle drinks?”

“It’s what I do best.” He stands up.

“Without magic?”

He places a hand over his chest. “Oh, Julia...you insult me.”

She smiles. “The kitchen is fully stocked so you should have no problem.”

“I’m on it,” he says. He walks to the kitchen, glad to have something to keep him busy. Besides, the faster he gets the drinks made the faster he can have his preferred type of holiday cheer. 

“Josh and Margo, you are on baking duty. And the rest of us, on decorating duty.”

“All that required a clipboard, huh?” Kady drawls.

Eliot chuckles. He examines the bottles of alcohol and juice before him, then checks the fridge to see what else he can use. Magic or no, he will not be tarnishing his reputation tonight. No matter how much he was not in the mood for celebrating.

“It’s not over yet. We’re celebrating all weekend long,” Julia says. “Now where’s my Christmas music?”

Margo and Josh walk into the kitchen, just as _All I Want For Christmas Is You_ fills the apartment. 

There's a pang in his chest as he's reminded of a Christmas celebration in a place and time so far away from this one, in a life he didn't really live but remembers all the same. He could almost hear Quentin singing loudly and off-key, drunk and giggly from plum wine.

Margo bumps him with her hip. “Penny for your thoughts?” 

Eliot shakes his head. “I told you I wouldn’t get morose until after we got terribly and merrily shitfaced.”


	2. Christmas Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas wishes

Eliot wakes up to the smell of bacon and coffee. He sits up on the couch, disoriented for just a moment until he remembers where he is. He gets up and walks to the kitchen, hungrier than he'd expect to be given the number of cookies he consumed the night before. Julia's rushing around, putting food on platters and filling cups with juice. There's bacon, eggs, toast, fresh fruit, and hashbrowns. She looks up when he walks in. "Morning," she says. She walks over to the counter, grabs a mug, and brings it over to Eliot.

He brings it up to his face and the smell invigorates him. “Thanks. You’re awfully busy this morning. Anything I can help with?”

She grabs her own cup of coffee and leans against the counter. “Your mission, should you choose to accept it...is to find yourself a personal ornament for the tree.”

“That’s it?” He takes a sip of his coffee. It’s rich, with subtle hints of cinnamon and clove. 

"Seeing how Josh, Margo, and you drank last night I honestly didn't think you'd be capable of much more."

Eliot laughs. “Ah, hangover prevention spell.”

She nods and smiles. “Of course. I should’ve known.” She takes a sip of her coffee. “I’m going to wake the others, help yourself to some breakfast.” She sets down her coffee mug and pushes off the counter.

“That I can do,” he says.

“And movie night starts at 7 PM sharp so don’t be late,” she says, pointing a finger at him.

  
  


Margo holds up a shot glass ornament. “Both symbolic and functional.”

Eliot sighs. “Oh. Bambi. Is that all you think of me?”

“Oh, hush. Who said it was for you?” She puts it back on the shelf.

Eliot holds up a black and white flannel covered bauble. There is a bow tied with yarn at the top, with tiny pine cones and leaves attached. “Julia,” they say in unison.

Margo holds up a Grinch one, grinning at Eliot. 

“Penny,” he says.

“Not who I was thinking.”

Eliot busies himself with the ornaments in front of him. “I don’t know what you mean.” He looks back at her in time to see her roll her eyes.

She picks up an ornament shaped like a knife, tracing a finger over the intricate design. “They will make anything into an ornament these days.” 

She doesn’t put it back on the shelf and keeps walking further down the aisle.

Eliot smiles to himself. "Bambi," he says, spotting their ornaments. There in front of him is a pair of gold crowns. He picks them off the display tree and catches up to her and they make their way towards the register. Eliot stops in his tracks, his eyes are drawn to an ornament on display. It's a glass bauble with a painted matte black finish. There's nothing remarkable about it other than the feeling it invokes in him. Painted on the black background are four playing cards, a King in each suit. Each card is outlined in glitter. It should be tacky, but somehow it isn't.

“Oh, El...it’s perfect.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s…” 

“C’mon, we aren’t going to not get one for him.”

“I’m sure Julia has already. Or Alice.”

“So what? Then he’ll have more than one.”

“Just forget it, let’s go.”

“It’s just an ornament, El.”

He grits his teeth. “If it’s just an ornament, then leave it alone.” He pushes past her towards the register.

“What the holy hell did we just walk into?” Eliot says, gaping at the sight in front of him.

“Eliot!” Fen says. “Julia got us all matching pajamas.” 

"I can see that." They’re all standing around the Christmas tree, mugs of steaming hot chocolate in their hands. 

“I wish I had a camera,” Margo says.

Julia picks up two thin rectangular boxes and holds them out to Margo and Eliot. Margo takes hers but eyes it with disdain.

“Oh no thank you,” Eliot says.

She shoves the box into his hands with a smile. “It wasn’t a suggestion.”

Eliot sighs. He looks at Margo, who just shrugs.

“Oh,” Julia says. “Did you get your ornaments?”

Eliot lifts the small bag that’s in his right hand. 

“Perfect. Get ‘em on the tree, get on your pajamas, and get yourselves some hot cocoa. We’re going to start the movie soon.”

Eliot and Margo set down their boxes and take out their ornaments. Everybody else has moved to various chairs and couches, chatting amongst themselves. In the same breath, he imagines how different it would be with Quentin here and wonders if Quentin would be proud of him for showing up when all he really wants is to drown his sorrows in the bottom of a glass.

He hangs his crown right next to Margo’s. “I can’t tell if she’s headed for a nervous breakdown or she just really loves Christmas.”

Margo sighs. “Christ. All I know is I need a little extra something in my hot chocolate.”

“Ditto.”

She hangs the knife ornament with care, a small smile on her lips.

“Fen’s going to love it,” he says.

Eliot looks over at Margo. She’s cuddled with Josh on the other end of the couch, but she’s watching him with a scrutinizing look on her face.

_ What? _ He mouths at her.

She nods her head towards the kitchen. She says something to Josh then, handing him her drink and standing up.

Eliot follows her, clutching the remnants of the wine he’d nearly forgotten about. He places a privacy spell around them.

“For a second there, I thought you were going to light the tree on fire with how hard you were glaring at it.”

He sighs. “It wasn’t there.”

“What?” Margo asks.

“I went back for the ornament and it wasn’t there so”—he swishes the contents of his wine glass—“congratulations on being right.”

Her face falls. “El…”

He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

She sighs. "I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to be right about anything. I just thought he should have an ornament on the tree. It would have been nice if you'd picked it out. And it was kind of perfect."

Eliot smiles. It's bitter around his teeth. "I guess it's just as well. It's rather fitting anyway."

She makes a small questioning noise.

“When I finally realized what I should do...when I realized I was ready, well”—he shrugs his right shoulder—“it was too late, wasn’t it?”

She moves in closer to him, placing her hand on his cheek. “I’m sorry, El.”

He shakes his head. “No I’m sorry, I promised I wouldn’t ruin Christmas for you.”

“You’re not ruining anything. I just wish…”

“What?”

She watches him for a few moments. “I really love you, you know that?”

“I don’t doubt that, Bambi.”

“I know you don’t. I just wish you could see how loved you are and not just by me. I know it’s hard right now and it will be for a while. Probably always. But I wish you could see how much you deserve to be loved and to love in return.”

He nods, placing his hand over hers and bringing them down to rest between them. He squeezes once before letting go. “Maybe one day. I just...I don’t even want to think about loving somebody else right now, but a part of me is afraid I never will. I wish I could know if I get to have that someday.” 

Margo wraps her arms around his middle and doesn’t let go. It’s hard to say how long they stay that way, in their personal bubble. 

He snaps his fingers, ending the privacy spell. The roar of laughter and music comes back to life. He gestures towards the living room. “Go, have fun. I’ll be fine.”

Margo gives him a long look. She opens her mouth and immediately closes it. She sighs, patting him on the shoulder and then finally rejoins their friends.

Eliot leans back against the counter, watching his friends as they dance and sing, hugging and holding each other close. He downs the rest of his wine and wonders how he’ll manage to sleep tonight.


	3. A Brief Interlude

Eliot walks into his temporary room just before midnight. He closes the door behind him and is immediately met with the sight of…

"Benedict?" He's sitting in the wicker chair beside the bed as if he belongs there. Though, lounging may be a more appropriate description. His face brightens.

“Eliot!” 

Eliot shakes his head. “What the hell did Josh put in those cakes?”

“What? No, it’s really me.”

Eliot sits on the bed, facing Benedict. “Did you come here to wish me a Merry Christmas?”

“I came here to tell you that over the next three nights, you will be visited by three spirits.”

Eliot flops back on the bed and groans. “Definitely high then.”

“No, you’re not”—Benedict sighs—“do I need to tell you something only you and I would know for you to believe me? Like that time—”

Eliot sits up. “How would that help me? If I was hallucinating…”

He frowns. "Right. Well, you're not."

“Three spirits?” He says. “Oh, is that all you came here for?”

He shrugs. “A friendly heads up? Or dramatic effect, I suppose.”

“And this whole thing is your doing?”

He laughs. “Nah, just a favor for a friend.”

“A friend.”

“That’s what I said.”

He narrows his eyes. “Did Margo have something to do with this? Was she afraid that Eliot Scrooge would ruin the holidays?”

“Hmm, these are dire times indeed,” Benedict says, as if to himself.

“Is that all you needed?”

He stands up. “Well, I guess I’ll be going.” He smiles. “Merry Christmas, Eliot.”


	4. The First of the Three Spirits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliot's visited by the first spirit.

Eliot's two glasses of whiskey in when there's a palpable change in the air. He'd been contemplating whether or not he'd really seen Benedict or if it was just a magical drug-induced hallucination. The glass is halfway to his mouth when a hand closes around it. He looks up, onto a familiar cherub face. A sob escapes him before he can even comprehend what he’s feeling and he nearly doubles over.

“Put the glass down, Papa,” Teddy says. Eliot allows him to take the glass and set it on the counter behind him. 

“When Benedict...I thought it was a dream”—his voice wavers—“It’s not a dream is it?” If it was, it was a cruel one. Reminding him of the things he’s had, the things he’s lost. If it was, he supposes, Quentin would be here too.

"Not a dream," he says. "Can I…" he shifts like he isn't sure what to do with his limbs. 

He nods and pulls Teddy in for a hug. He's solid, warm. It surprises Eliot. It should be awkward, he thinks. How long has it been? He shouldn't even be real, is his second thought. It answers questions he's been wondering about a lot since Quentin died. And it raises many more in their place. He pulls back from the embrace. "I'm sorry your dad's not here…"

Teddy nods. "I'm sorry too. He wasn't...I mean, he wasn't young in my time when he died. Neither of you were. I guess that doesn't matter much though, does it?"

Eliot swallows around the lump in his throat. “So you’re my first spirit, huh?” 

Teddy eyes the nearly empty glass on the counter with a rueful smile. 

Eliot barely bites back a laugh. His emotions are all over the place. Seeing Teddy, who must be around 18 or so, is bittersweet, to say the least.

“It’s time. Are you ready?”

“I don’t really have a choice now do I?” He’s equal parts curious and tired and unwilling to let this moment go.

Teddy grabs a hold of his arm. In a blink, they are in Fillory. Before them lies the cottage and the mosaic where Teddy grew up. Where they all grew up, really. “Don’t worry, they can’t see us.”

They watch on as their younger selves decorate a tree with enchanted lights and homemade ornaments. Eliot lifts Teddy up to put a star at the top and then they stand back to admire their work. Teddy whoops in delight.

Eliot smiles and turns to Teddy. “This was the first time we ever celebrated Christmas in Fillory. After”—he clears his throat—“after your mom died, we just wanted to give you something special, something happy to remember.”

"You did," he says. When he turns to Eliot, there are tears in his eyes. "And not just on Christmas."

Eliot wipes the tears from his own eyes. “See, that...you get that from your dad.”

Teddy laughs.

He sniffles. “Thank the gods for that. He was a good man. And a great dad, once upon a time.”

“He’s not the only one,” he says softly.

They don’t move, but the scene around them changes. They’re still at the cottage, but not as far in the past. 

This time four children are running around the Christmas tree shouting and laughing and playing. Teddy chases them around as his wife Clare watches on with a smile on her face. The sight makes him nostalgic.

Teddy nudges him, pointing to the front of the cottage where Quentin is hanging mistletoe right above the doorway. He’d forgotten a lot of things about their time on the quest. 50 years in another life, how could he not. The big things he remembered; Arielle and Teddy and falling in love and grandkids and the mosaic. Sometimes he had random fragments of feelings or unclear memories and he wasn’t sure if it was from this life or his current one. Seeing Quentin here, alive and safe and happy...he can almost pretend this is still their life. The door opens and Eliot’s on the other side, a pleasantly surprised look on his face. He looks up at the mistletoe then back at Quentin and smiles. He pulls Quentin into the cottage and shuts the door behind them.

Teddy quietly laughs. 

Eliot feels his face grow hot. 

Teddy turns to him. "Your life here, our life here, it may not have been what you were used to in your lives back on Earth. I know you missed your friends. But you had each other. You had us," he says, gesturing to his family. "Love was never in short supply."

“I’m not sure...is that supposed to make me feel better about…?”

Teddy frowns. “Just a reminder; of the love you had. The love you gave us. I can’t give you all of this again, I wish I could. But this wasn’t your one shot at happiness, at love. You can have that again.”

Eliot raises an eyebrow.

He shrugs. “It’s not going to be the same, I know, but I promise you can. Even right now, you have more love than you know.”

_I’m not that person anymore_ , he wants to say. “I think I’m ready to go home now.” Not a word of it is true. He’s not ready to leave this. He’s not ready to go back to a place, a time, where nothing actually feels like _home_.

Teddy nods wordlessly. He takes a hold of Eliot and suddenly they’re back in the apartment. 

He wants to ask him who sent him and why. He wants to ask who is going to visit him next. He can’t make the words leave his throat. He takes one last look. He refuses to say goodbye. “Thank you.”

Teddy pulls him in for another hug. He squeezes back, promising himself he won’t forget the way it feels. “Merry Christmas Papa,” he whispers. 

  
  
  


Margo finds him hours later, sitting by himself in the living room. “Jesus, El. You don’t look like you slept a wink.”

He looks up at her. “I didn’t.”

She frowns, moving closer to him. “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head, patting the cushion by him. “Sit. I want to tell you a story.”

* * *

  
  
Margo finds him hours later, sitting by himself in the living room. “Jesus, El. You don’t look like you slept a wink.”

He looks up at her. “I didn’t.”

She frowns, moving closer to him. “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head, patting the cushion by him. “Sit. I want to tell you a story.”


	5. The Second of the Three Spirits

After he finished telling Margo an extremely condensed conversion of his time in Fillory with Quentin, she had bullied him into going to bed.

“It’s Christmas,” he said. “Julia will be up any minute demanding we open presents. I don’t want to disappoint her. She’s worked so hard to plan everything.”

"We can wait," she said. She pushed him onto the bed, placing the comforter over him. 

“But—”

“Eliot, they’ll understand. Just get some sleep okay? We’ll open presents when you get up.” Her tone doesn’t leave room for resistance. 

He picked at the comforter. “If you’re sure. I guess I am pretty tired.”

“I’m sure,” she said, turning towards the door. She looked back at him. “I can stay if you need?”

He shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”

She rapped her knuckles on the doorframe twice and nodded her head before shutting the door, leaving him to process everything.

  
  


Eliot watches the commotion happening around him, doing his best to be there and not hundreds of years in the past. He tries to be present and not feel like he’s just biding his time; until the next spirit arrives, until they go back to Fillory, until his heart stops hurting, until he finds some purpose.

He smiles as Fen opens a present, squealing with delight. He’ll never be the husband she needs or deserves, at least not in any traditional capacity. But he cares for her more than he ever thought he could. He couldn’t imagine not having her around now that their lives are intertwined, especially with Margo happily in the middle of it all.

A present drops into his lap. He looks up and Margo is smiling down at him. “Merry Christmas bitch.”

"You're my secret Santa? I'm surprised I didn't walk out here to find you wrapped underneath the tree."

Josh snorts from his place next to him on the couch. “Had to talk her out of that.”

She places her hands on her hips. “I could have and you would have accepted it without complaint.”

He smiles, toying with the ribbon on the box. “You’re right. Like always.”

She looks at him expectantly and clears her throat.

He pulls the ribbon until it unravels. He turns the box over, running his finger underneath the taped part.

She huffs. "Well, you don't need to be so fucking delicate about it."

“I’m sorry, do you want to open it for me?”

She reaches for it and he holds on to it tighter. They both laugh. He sees Josh shake his head out of the corner of his eye. “Eliot,” she warns.

“Fine.” He opens the box the rest of the way. He pulls out an envelope.”

“It’s a gift certificate for best friend massages, open it later.”

“Yes, your majesty.” He pulls out a black silk robe from the box. “Massages and a robe. What’s happened to us? Are we”—he shudders—“growing up?”

"Mmm. Apparently, it's not enough anymore to just grow older."

“You bite your tongue.”

She laughs and ruffles his hair. He can’t resist leaning into the touch. “Merry Christmas, El.”

“Merry Christmas, Margo.”

  
  
  


He finds Julia out on the patio sitting by herself, looking out across the city. There are various sizes of tall buildings as far as the eyes can see, clumped together in an endless sea of architecture. It isn't all that interesting and a sight she's undoubtedly looked out upon many times before. But maybe she isn't really seeing it at all.

“What are you doing out here all by yourself?”

She looks at Eliot as he takes a seat across from her. She shrugs. “Just needed some quiet I guess.”

“You? Miss holiday cheer?”

She sighs. “I’m sorry if it’s all been too much for you. If it seems like I don’t...I miss him every day.”

“I know you do.”

“Do you?”

He winces. “Julia, I—”

“Because you implied, no outright said that we all didn’t give a shit and weren’t doing anything to get him back.”

“I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You don’t have a monopoly on grieving him, Eliot.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t come out here to fight with you. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

They sit in silence, both too stubborn or too tired to leave or speak up. Maybe this is what shared grief is. He looks inside the apartment and catches Margo's eye. She raises an eyebrow as if to question whether he needs to be saved. He shakes his head and she turns back to Josh.

“It’s not too much,” he says quietly. “Q would have loved it. Our friends love it.” And isn’t that what it’s all about?

“This isn’t me giving up, you have to know that. We’re doing all we can.”

He nods.

“I know you didn’t want to be here—”

“I didn’t mean it.” 

“You did, but that’s okay. I get it. I won’t be mad if you guys leave tonight, but we’d love you to stay.”

“Okay,” he says. They leave it at that.

  
  


Eliot flicks the ash off the end of his cigarette as he watches through the glass as his friends mill about. It's well after midnight, but none of them want to leave each other's company long enough to sleep. He's not sure how long he's been out on the patio by himself but he imagines if he stays out much longer, Margo will come and drag his ass back inside. He sighs and puts out the cigarette. A shadow falls over the lit patio and Eliot looks up.

"What god did I piss off to deserve the pleasure of having you for the ghost of my Christmas present?"

Penny smirks. “Glad to see you’re as funny as you’ve always been.”

"Hmm. The question still stands."

“C’mon, get up. I’ve got a job to do.”

“Efficiency. I like that in a man.”

“Eliot, I’m not here for your bullshit.”

“What exactly are you here for?”

"Listen man, I can’t play both parts here. Some things you’ve got to work out on your own." He walks over to the door but doesn't open it. He looks at Eliot like he has all the time in the world. “Do you want to go inside? It's cold out here." He opens the door.

“Do you even get cold?”

“Y’know, I’m capable of caring about somebody other than myself.”

“Huh, wonders never cease.”

“Just get inside, asshole.”

Eliot smiles. “There he is.”

They walk inside but don’t move further in. “I’ve only been to the past so far. They can’t see us right?”

“Right.”

“How exactly? How’s all of this happening?”

He smirks. “Magic.”

“I’m not the only one who’s still an asshole,” he mutters.

“Look, I’m gonna make this quick.”

“Got somewhere better to be? Hot date with a Librarian maybe?”

"Despite being dead, believe it or not, I do have better things to do than try to make some idiot see what he has right in front of him."

“I think if that were true, you wouldn’t be here.”

“Yeah well like I said, I’m capable of caring about people other than myself.”

“And that includes me?”

“We’re all capable of change.”

“Maybe some more than others.”

A shriek of laughter has them both turning towards the kitchen, where their friends are creating a village of gingerbread houses. 

Eliot and Penny move closer. 

Josh and Margo both have intense looks on their faces as they cover their houses with as many candies as possible. Kady seems to have given up on getting the sides of her house to stay on, more interested in getting as much frosting on Julia as possible while Penny 23 watches on in amusement. Fen is mostly eating the candies under the guise of helping Alice with her gingerbread stable. Still, she has a small smile on her face as Fen chatters away. It takes him by surprise, just how grateful he is for it.

He turns to Penny, watches him. “It’s weird right?”

Penny turns to him.

“Watching a different you, living in your timeline. And with Julia, no less.”

He shrugs. “I’m sure it’s weirder for you guys. I’m not actually here to see it.”

Eliot pokes him. “You feel pretty solid to me. Which is weird, right? I thought you guys were supposed to be spirits. Doesn’t that mean you should be like”—he gestures vaguely—“I don’t know, less solid?”

Penny rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “You and Quentin really did make quite a pair, didn’t you?” he mutters.

Eliot gapes. 

“I’m sorry, did you want me to tiptoe around the reason I’m here?”

“I mean, I would have preferred to be eased into it.” He turns back to the scene before him. Margo and Josh have apparently completed their mission and are now making out like there’s nobody else around. “Something tells me you don’t actually care what I want.”

“I really don’t. But helping you realize what you need is a different story.”

“And you think you of all people know what that is?”

Penny huffs. “I know you well enough. I know you’re hurting. And I know you’re not moving on.”

He swallows around the lump in his throat. He can feel Penny’s eyes on him but refuses to meet his gaze.

“The way I see it, you have two choices. You can move on or you can stay stuck.”

“Sounds easy enough, Eliot says.”

“It’s not easy, but it’s a choice.”

“And you’ve moved on?”

“I have.”

“How?”

“I stopped fighting what I couldn’t change.”

“How do you expect me to just give up? We’re magicians for fuck’s sake. Isn’t changing things what we do?”

Penny shrugs.“When it works.”

“Sorry.”

“Look, I don’t know how to put this any other way. Appreciate what you have right here, literally right in front of your face. You’re not betraying him by living your life.”

“He lost his life saving mine. Saving all of ours.”

“So don’t you think you should, I don’t know, actually live yours?”

“My first spirit showed me the life Quentin and I lived in the past. What was all that for then? You’re here now telling me to just move on and that’s it?”

“I wish I had all the answers. I don’t know much about your past, but I do know you have a life and people that care for you here and now if you’re willing to accept it.”

“And the future?”

“I guess that depends on what you choose.”

He lets out a shaky breath. “So what do I do?”

“I can’t tell you how to grieve. But I can tell you to get your shit together and appreciate what you have.”

“Kinda feels like you’re telling me how to grieve.”

"I'm not. I'm just saying, bringing Quentin back can't be what makes you happy, man. That's not fair to him and that's definitely not fair to you. Or the people who are here with you now."

“I just…”

“I know. But saving him won’t save you.”

He wipes the tears from his eyes. “I really want to hate you right now.”

He laughs. “Whatever helps you.”

“Is it rude to say that death and eternal servitude has been good to you?”

He shakes his head. “And here I thought we were getting somewhere good,” he says. But Eliot doesn’t miss the small smile before he turns back to the kitchen.

“Nothing you want to ask me?”

He sighs. “I moved on, remember?”

He shrugs. “Sure, you moved on. Doesn’t mean you don’t still love her.” He grins at him. “Or miss us.

Penny cuts his eyes at him. 

“Do you want me to tell her you said hi or—”

“Don’t do that. Didn’t go so well the last time. I can’t do that to her.”

“Maybe it’d be good for her. Gods know what I would give…” he shakes his head. “But here you are instead.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to say goodbye. That really sucks. At least I—”

“Let’s not compare grief. Dying sucks. Living without someone who died sucks. It all sucks.”

“Not all of it. You’ll see.”

Eliot looks at him, but he offers no further explanation. “Leaving so soon?”

“I think my work here is done.”

“Okay. Um...merry Christmas?”

He snorts. “Merry Christmas Eliot.” He claps him on the shoulder and the next moment he’s gone.

Margo looks at him, surprised. “Where the hell have you been?”

He looks at Kady, then back at Margo. “Was just catching up with an old...friend.”

Fen grabs his arm excitedly. “C’mon Eliot, we’re going to watch Lifetime movies and do shots.”

Josh, Margo, Fen, Alice, Julia, and Penny all gather in the living room, piling up on the couch. 

Kady grabs his arm. “Eliot, did you see—”

Somebody clears their throat loudly. They look over as six expectant faces look back. Fen points up and grins.

Eliot and Kady look towards the ceiling. _Mistletoe_. Gods, his friends are the worst. Eliot looks back down at Kady and rolls his eyes.

She raises an eyebrow at him. “What do you say? From one grinch to another?”

He sends a silent apology to Penny. Over it, his ass. He smirks. “There’s nobody I’d rather kiss.”

“Watch it,” Margo says. 

Kady rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling.

Eliot chuckles. He leans down, placing a chaste kiss on her lips. She tastes like cranberries and vodka. Cheers erupted throughout the room. He presses their foreheads together. It's more intimate than he thought they could ever be. "I'm sorry," he whispers.

She frowns. “Me too,” she says.

They both stand up straight, putting distance between them. He clears his throat. “Happy Holidays, Kady.”

“Happy Holidays, Eliot.”


	6. The Last of the Spirits

Eliot paces the living room back and forth. He bites a fingernail as he glances at the clock. It’s half past midnight, only seconds or minutes have passed since the last time he looked. He knows the final spirit should have been here by now. Maybe they aren’t going to show. Maybe he’s learned what he needed to and the spell’s been broken. He continues to pace anyway. He’s sick to his stomach to think he actually cares whether the last spirit shows up. He’s sick with the fact that he stupidly let himself hope. 

“Get it together. Eliot,” he tells himself, scrubbing a hand down his face. He almost expects Margo to storm downstairs to yell at him to stop being such an enormous twat. He almost wants her to. 

He goes to the kitchen to fix himself a drink. He can’t imagine being able to sleep, but maybe blacking out is still an option. He grabs the bottle, forgoing a glass, and sits at the table. He brings the bottle to his lips. Teddy’s voice echoes in his head. He frowns, putting the bottle back down but not letting go. He thinks back to what Penny said.  _ Saving him won’t save you.  _ He fights the tears that threaten to pour out. Gods, he hasn’t cried this much since the first therapy session he went to months ago, shortly after Quentin died. 

He picks the bottle back up. Nobody was going to save him. Nobody was here to stop him. Not his therapist, not Margo, not Teddy, not Penny. Not Quentin. He puts the bottle down with a sigh, pushing it away. Tries to do the same with his disappointment. He stands up and pushes back his chair. 

There’s a crash to his right. Then, “shit.”

He turns around and is met with a whirlwind of a girl. “Um…”

“I am so sorry,” she says, straightening a vase that was on the verge of tipping over. “I am so late. I didn’t realize...the time exchange and all that.” She’s young, maybe 15 or so. She has long, dark curly hair that falls around her bronze skin in a way that he suspects is not messy on purpose. She’s anxious energy personified. He feels sick at the thought that his last spirit died young. “Are you okay?” she asks. “You look like you just saw a ghost.” She moves closer to him, guiding him to the table to sit back down.

Eliot’s eyes widen. “Oh god, you’re really dead?”

“Oh! No,” she laughs. Reaching a hand across the table. “I’m not dead. I just um”—she scratches her head—“no.”

“Okay…so you’re my spirit of Christmas future, who is definitely not dead.”

She smiles. “That’s me.”

“How old are you, um...?”

“Sixteen today. And it’s Aria.”

“Happy Birthday then. Sorry you have to spend it with me.”

“I really don’t mind.”

Eliot’s not sure why he believes her. “Well it’s nice to meet you, Aria. I’m Eliot.”

She smiles, amused but not unkind. “I know.”

“Right, of course.”

“We should probably get going. Are you ready?”

“To see the future? Ready as I’ll ever be I guess.”

Seconds later, they’re standing outside of the Throne Room in Fillory. Music pours out into the hallway, voices and laughter carrying over the sound. He could probably pick them out if he tried, but he’s trying hard not to. His palms are sweaty and his face feels flushed. 

Aria looks over at him and smiles, oblivious to his plight. She grabs his arm. “C’mon, come see.”

“Wait,” he says. 

She raises an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just...do I have a choice here? I mean, I get it now. I learned my lesson. I remember what it was like”—he swallows around the lump in his throat—“to really love and be loved. And I know that I have it now, even when it hurts to feel it. Even when I miss Quentin like hell.” 

Aria’s eyes go wide and she lets out a small “Oh.” She shakes her head.“I’m so sorry,” she says. “I didn’t realize the timing...gods, no wonder—”

“You don’t have to apologize. You can just take me home right?”

“Oh, I mean...I don’t know? I’m not sure how all of this works.” She looks into the Throne Room and frowns. She turns back to him. “Are you sure? I really think you should—”

He nods as if it will convince her and himself. Maybe he's a coward, not quite ready to move on and move forward. Maybe for once, he's being brave, accepting that he'll be happy in the future even if he doesn't quite know what that will look like. He's mostly okay with not knowing. "I'm sure."

"Okay," she says quietly. She takes hold of his arm. Seconds pass and they're still standing there. She draws back her hand.

“Aria?

“Uh oh,” she says.

Eliot looks at her. She’s inspecting whatever’s in her hands. She turns it over and something rattles inside. “What do you mean ‘uh oh’?”

“This doesn’t seem to be”—she smacks the object with her left hand and sighs—“working.”

“So what does that mean?”

She looks up at him and grimaces. “The spell is almost over and if this doesn’t work...I don’t know how to get you back. I don’t know how to get me back.”

“Won’t we just go back when the spell ends?”

“If so, why would I need this?” She holds up the object, eyebrows furrowed.

“I don’t know,” Eliot says. “I’ve just been along for the ride. I was basically kidnapped.”

She gives him a look. “I don’t know, it sounds like you’ve had quite the journey.”

Eliot lifts his chin. “Yes, well...I didn’t ask for it.”

A smile tugs at her lips. “Maybe not  _ you _ ,” she says softly.

He’s too emotionally drained to try to unravel that mystery. She’s his last spirit after all. “So...the spell?”

Her eyes widen. "Right! Oh, gods…" she looks around. Then she grabs a hold of his arm. "Come with me."

At that moment, his future self is walking towards them. “Hey!” Eliot shouts at him. 

She sighs. “Nobody can see us or hear us remember?” Even so, they wait for him to pass them in the hallway. “Let’s go.” She leads him down the hallway and takes a left. He watches for just a moment as his future self takes a right. He follows her into a library.

She’s pulling books off shelves and flipping through the pages, muttering to herself.

Eliot examines the shelves of books surrounding him. It almost feels wrong being here, like he’s intruding on something that isn’t his. It is, but not yet. It feels so far away to even fathom yet, even though he doesn’t actually know how far into the future it is. Given everything he’s seen, he’d bet 20 years at least. 

A book slams shut, pulling him back to the present. Well, the future’s present anyway. He looks at Aria, who throws up her hands. “I don’t know,” she says, with panic in her eyes. 

Eliot moves closer. “Hey, it’s okay. We’ll figure this out. What can I do?”

She looks down at the object on the table in front of her. She furrows her brow and bites at her lip. “Well, I can try...but I haven’t been very successful at this so far.” She takes a deep breath and takes a more confident stance, holding her hands out before her and over the object. 

Eliot watches her, but nothing seems to be happening. 

“Dad’s been trying to teach me.” The object slowly lifts up from the table. She grins.

“What are you doing?” he asks, quietly as to not break her concentration.

She plucks the object from the air, closing her hand around it. She looks up at him then with a small smile. “Just some minor mending.”

“So it worked?”

“I think so. Let’s get you home then. Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

He shakes his head. “No spoilers please.”

“As you wish. Wait right here, we’re not done just yet.” 

She returns moments later, carrying something in her hand. She grabs a hold of his arm and then they’re back in the apartment. He’s not sure what to say. 

“Hold out your hands?” she says.

He does so and she places a round object in them. His eyes well up at the sight. He looks up at her. “How did you…”

She smiles. “Merry Christmas.” 

She’s gone before he can think to reply, leaving him to wonder and hold on to the ornament in his hands. 


	7. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5 years later...

“I still can’t believe you actually found a magician that can paint portraits from memories,” Julia says as Eliot looks for a place to hang the ornament; a photo of Teddy, Clare, and the grandkids. “Isn’t it painful?”

He shrugs. “No more than getting a tattoo I suppose.” He finds a home for it next to a pair of sea turtles he and Margo brought back last year from their annual trip to Ibiza. “Besides, I don’t ever want to forget them, what they look like. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” 

“That’s really sweet, Eliot.” She hands him his favorite ornament of all, Quentin’s first but certainly not his only. “Can’t forget this one. Good as new, never would have known a pesky cat got to it.”

“A little minor mending goes a long way,” he agrees.

They step back and admire the tree, which was at least 10 feet tall and 5 feet around. Nearly every inch was covered in decoration of some kind because they were all dramatic and didn't do anything in halves. He looks over at Julia and smiles. "What do you think?"

She raises an eyebrow. “I think that if we’re going to keep making these bigger every year, they’re going to start to outgrow the Throne Room.”

"Well, we had to fit all the ornaments. What was I supposed to do?" It had become a tradition with all of their friends, picking out a personal ornament each year. For the first two years at least. Then it turned into a contest of who could find the gaudiest and well, this was the result.

“Throw them in a fire,” she mutters. She toys with a checkered bauble. “Not this one though”—she smiles—“this one we can keep.”

He clears his throat. “Speaking of keeping things…rumor has it that a certain traveler plans to make it official.”

She eyes him. "Uh-huh."

“Just wondering how good my chances are of being the best man.”

She snorts. “I think Josh put too much Vodka in the punch bowl if you think you’re even in the top 3.”

“I can’t believe you’d be so rude to me at my own party.” 

There’s a noise of protest from behind them and they both turn around. Margo’s standing with her hands on her hips, 38 weeks pregnant and still as beautiful and regal as ever. Even with a scowl. “Your party? Who planned all of this; the food, the drinks, the decorations, the guest list?”

“I got the tree,” he says with a pout. “And all of this.” He gestures to the ceiling; where hundreds of enchanted candles float above their heads and fake snow falls softly all around them.

Margo smirks. “That’s just cause you’ve got it bad for Harry Potter.”

He rolls his eyes and huffs. “Our party,” he concedes. 

Her face softens. “Yeah, alright.”

Julia clears her throat. “I’m just gonna let you guys have your moment.” She pulls Eliot in for a hug, standing on her tiptoes so she can throw her arms around his neck. She turns to Margo then, smiling. “Not long now.” She places a kiss on her cheek, then she’s off to join the rest of the party.

He turns to Margo and places both hands around her belly. Even after all these months, he still isn’t used to the feeling. “I can never thank you enough, Bambi.”

She places her hands over his. “You could have thanked me by naming the damn thing after me.”

He grimaces. “Aria Margo? I love you, but…”

“Yeah, you’re right. Maybe the next one then. But don’t look at me, somebody else will be taking that bullet.”

He laughs. "Fair enough. We haven't talked about that though, if we're going to have more."

She raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, like you’re not going to have enough for your own damn Quidditch team."

He ducks his head and smiles. It doesn’t scare him anymore, the things he realizes he wants; to be surrounded by friends and family, to be starting a family of his own. “It’s still hard to believe I get to have all of this.”

“Nothing less than you deserve,” she says quietly.

He nods. “Are you ready?”

She groans. “Ready for this to be over. Are you? In just a few weeks, you’re going to be a dad.”

"Well, we did it once before. We can do it again, right? But I'm telling you, she's not going to make it that long. Two days tops."

She rolls her eyes. “Right, the whole Back To The Future thing.”

“That’s not what...forget it. Just trust me."

"Uh-huh." She looks past him and smiles. "I'm gonna go find Fen and Josh, but don't you go disappearing on me." She points an accusing finger at him. "We're doing secret Santa at midnight."

“But Bambi, what if some handsome king comes to whisk me away?”

“Then you tell that asshole you’re already taken.”

He laughs and bends down to kiss her forehead. He watches as she walks away. It’s too graceful, too Margo, to be called a waddle and she would kill him if he ever referred to it as such but that’s exactly what it is. His heart swells.

He's mingled with everybody at some point tonight; Julia, Penny, Fen, Josh. Kady and Alice, who were inseparable now and even though it should be surprising it somehow wasn't. They're perfect for each other in a badass, scary as hell power couple way. He was even nice to Todd, who is currently lounging on Eliot's throne as if he belongs there. He wants to strangle him but he's held back by the reluctant gratitude he feels for Todd's part in his and Fen's annulment; which gave her the happiness and him the freedom they both deserve. He may not think he's good enough for Fen, but he's more suited for her than Eliot could ever be. Still, he narrows his eyes. Todd smirks back. 

He wonders if he’s socialized enough for Margo to consider him having ‘made an appearance.’ He’s happy and he’s grateful to have everyone he loves all in one place for the holidays, but he’s more than ready to make his retreat at least until midnight.

He scans the room and frowns. From behind him, arms encircle his waist. “Looking for someone?”

He turns around in the embrace, a smile tugging at his lips. “Oh, just my husband. Have you seen him?”

The arms around him tighten. “Hmm. Think I saw him standing under the mistletoe.”

Eliot looks up and smiles. “Clever.” 

He's met with a grin. “Merry Christmas, Eliot Waugh.”

"Excuse me. That's Coldwater-Waugh to you, sir."

Quentin laughs. “Will you just shut up and kiss me please?”

Eliot pulls him closer. “As you wish.”


End file.
